By Reverend Noel C. Burtenshaw

Electronics was on his mind as the young Mike McDonald left the Navy in 1954. For two years, Uncle Sam had carefully trained his touch to tinker with those technical machines. Now he would put the acquired skills to work for himself.

It was not to be. In his native Hollis out in Queens, he talked over his future and his vocational dreams with a chatty neighbor. Flamboyantly, the neighbor assured him that a rainbow's reward awaited his ambitions appetite in the growing glamorous field of advertising. More than Mike McDonald ever dreamed, his neighbor was prophetically right.

McDonald and Little was the 57^th largest advertising agency in the country last year. They will be within the top 50 when this year ends. New York is the Mecca of the agency business. That's where the headquarters of elite and successful ad-men must evolve. Not for Mike McDonald. He set up home office downtown on Peachtree in plush surroundings atop the Colony Square.

Ad agencies are like movie sets. There is a constant furious action, minute-by-minute conferences and colorful displays aplenty. A visit to the top floor office of St. Jude parishioner, Mike McDonald, puts you squarely in the middle of that fantasy world.

Doors slide open as you approach, conference rooms are jet-age designed and projection lenses peep from behind your shoulder. It is the fast and fabulously different world of selling. Media selling.

After a second transfer to Atlanta in 1968 by his New York employer, Mike met Birmingham-born Tom Little. The partnership was perfect. Mike could sell the product; Tom could create the attractive pitch. The ladder of success was raised and the climb began.

One of the biggest stories to unfold from this creative pair was Atlanta's "Ice Age." Major-league ice hockey was descending on the city and McDonald and Little sold the product. Their slogan told us the story "The Ice Men Cometh to Atlanta." Then they added a new dimension to that story. The home of hockey in the South was named by this duo. They called it The Omni. Like selling any new product, the name had to fit. It did.

The ad business is a multi-faceted field of constant creativity. It has two sides: speculative and practical. The vision must be artistically expressed and the customer has to buy. "Slogans are important," says McDonald, "but they must be apt. They must fit."

They also must catch the eye, especially when one half-minute pitch on prime-time television could cost as much as $80,000.

Television is a big concern for agencies, but magazines, radio, newspapers and good old billboards cannot be forgotten either. "You always keep in mind the product, the plan and the execution," says McDonald thoughtfully. "Of course the consumer, adult or child, cannot be forgotten either."

Ad-med don’t forget. "The presentation must fit perfectly," says McDonald. "You don't sell a computer, expensive and long lasting, the way you sell a can of Coke. One presentation may be geared to simply introducing the product. Another demands on-the-spot remembrance as the coin goes into the machine."

The art is perfected and polished as the scheming sales minds constantly tick.

Many of the larger national firms place their confidence and part of their sales promotions in the hands of this 46-year-old executive. Busch Gardens, Purina, Coke, Fresca, (we had one with lunch) McDonald's Restaurants, (we ate chicken salad) Southern Airways, Simmons and others seek out their swift talent and growing reputation.

The firm of McDonald and Little has climbed the ladder of success and growth since the days when Mike and Tom toyed with their Atlanta-based idea. They now occupy 50,000 square feet, and are expanding in Atlanta. Other offices flourish in Orlando, Tampa, Jacksonville and, of course, New York.

Mike McDonald met Joan Wheatley at a parish dance in New York City and successfully marched her to the altar. They have three daughters, Tricia, Erin and Maureen.

As his name suggests, Mike has an Irish background. Both parents hailed from one of the most scenic corners of Ireland, the county of Donegal. Neighborliness is important in that northwestern county where cottage woolen industries abound and fishing villages dot the coast. That same tradition of neighborliness followed their emigrant steps to Queens. That’s where it caught up with their son, Mike. He just followed a neighbor's advice to the top of the ad business.

Electronics lost an engineer and the world of commercial sales gained a new technician, Michael George McDonald. He's our Catholic this week. And he's an ad man.